Fractured
by Jacinda Valentine
Summary: Hermione has been in St. Mungo's for close to a year in a near-catatonic state, with no memory of the events which put her there in the first place. This story chronicles her return to Hogwart's and recovery of her memories. WIP.
1. Prologue

Author's Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. It is written solely for entertainment purposes and I make no profit from it.

Prologue

Most days were identical. She remained in the same position on the soft cot, staring up at the picture hung upon the ceiling. It was a snapshot from her second year, featuring a wild-haired, buck-toothed girl gesticulating wildly towards the camera in between viciously hugging the two very different boys who flanked her. Occasionally the figures disappeared from the picture, sometimes singly, others in groups. When that happened, she showed no dismay. She simply turned her head to the right.

The enchanted window which filled the eastern wall of the private room offered an ever-changing view of the grounds at Hogwarts, though it most often represented the view from the girls' dorm in Gryffindor Tower. It had been a gift to her from Albus Dumbledore, intended to, in his words, "Remind you of those who anxiously await your return home." Occasionally she would see smoke curling from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, or tiny figures zooming around the distant Quidditch pitch. She would stare intently at the painting until her eyes lost their focus, and then her head would return to its former position, staring up at the newly re-occupied photos.

For the majority of the day, she was not alone in the room. The Healers made their rounds diligently, and there were always visitors stopping by to see her. The boys from the photograph made frequent appearances. Time had changed them somewhat. The dark-haired boy still had the odd scar on his forehead, but the joyful face that stared out at her from the photograph was always solemn as it hovered over her bed. Dark eyebrows knit together with worry as a calloused hand reached out, lifting her limp hand from the coverlet and clutching it. The redhead, on the other hand, always made a half-hearted attempt to engage her in conversation, always offering a faltering shadow of the lopsided grin that beamed out at her from the photograph.

On a day the same as any other, the pair entered her room whispering in reverent undertones. They immediately made a beeline for the bedside, with the slender dark-haired boy assuming his normal position at her left side, her hand clasped tightly in his, while the redhead's pained smile appeared. He wasted no time, but immediately dropped to his knees at her other side, blocking out her view of the window as he threw his arms out in excitement.

"So, 'Mione, you should've seen Harry in last week's match against Puddlemere! Caught the Snitch in under a minute, he did! They didn't even get their hands on the bloody quaffle, it was with that fast! The crowd went positively mental – can you imagine shelling out the Galleons to see the Chudley Cannons take on Puddlemere United and have it be over with so fast? They were lucky they didn't have a riot on their hands!"

The boy on her left sighed quietly and lifted his free hand, cutting off his friend's speech.

"She's not there, Ron."

With that, the redhead's smile faded abruptly, and his head dropped. His shoulders hunched as he rested his hands quietly on the side of her bed, gazing up at her with the wide, innocent eyes that she knew from the photograph. "I dunno, Harry. She could be in there..."  
  
Another forlorn sigh came from her left. "Even Dumbledore doesn't know anymore."

_But I am here_, a small voice in her head insisted. _I can hear you all just perfectly. _  
  
This was new. This was unfamiliar. She had never before felt the urge to try to speak to the visitors, or to acknowledge them...only to lie in peace with her pictures. Her eyes blinked twice in rapid succession, and her right hand twitched against the coverlet.

Both faces suddenly zoomed into her field of vision as the boys stumbled to their feet, leaning forward to stare down at her face intently.

Ron swallowed hard, darting an uncertain glance over at his friend. "Did you see that, Harry? Don't reckon I've ever seen her move that much..."

_Harry...yes! I know Harry! And Ron, from the picture!_

A new sound reached her ears, a muted groan, as a sharp pain pierced her temples. White dots speared through her vision, blurring out the figures above her head. In the distance she heard faint sounds of scrambling, and a cracking, high-pitched voice that reminded her vaguely of the redhead..."Get a bloody healer in here! And someone get an owl off to Hogwarts!"

---------------------------

"Just a few more steps, Miss Granger...that's right...now, if you'll be so kind as to sit down..."

A wizened hand carefully disengaged her own frail fingers from the crook of an elaborately-clad arm. Albus Dumbledore kept his eyes fixed upon his charge, keeping his light grip upon her until she was firmly settled into the overstuffed armchair across from his desk. With a gentle smile, he released her hand, which drifted down listlessly to fall against her lap with a muted thump. She watched out of the corner of his eye as he threaded his way through numerous endtables and pedestals, making his way around his massive desk before settling into his own cushioned chair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers. Blue eyes glistened thoughtfully over the rims of half-moon glasses as he studied the quiet young woman sitting before him.

"Miss Granger," he began gently, his voice laced with concern, "Do you remember who I am, and where you are?"

Her head lifted slightly, and he was given a dead-on look into her deep brown eyes. They were glazed over and lifeless, but he stared at her in determination. "Miss Granger?"  
  
_Yes...that is who I am. I'm Hermione Jane Granger, and this is Professor Dumbledore's office...and that is Fawkes, over there..._

In a jerky motion, her upper body swerved to the right so she could stare at the scarlet phoenix preening itself upon a golden perch. The magnificent bird paused in its grooming and lifted its head, cocking it to the side with an inquisitive chirrup.

Dumbledore watched her motions carefully, making no move to interrupt her or carry his questioning any further. As he looked on, Hermione reached upward with her left hand and tugged absently upon a thick brown curl. His heart almost broke upon the spot as he recognized the gesture she often used as a student while reflecting upon a particularly difficult assignment. Her thin lips pursed for a moment, then parted, and a soft, scratchy whisper emerged from her.

"Home?"

Tears trickled out from Dumbledore's eyes, though this time his heart exploded with joy at the first word anyone had heard from the girl in close to a year. She turned back towards him, her eyes full of confusion, her own lower lip trembling in surprise at her revelation. He smiled at her fondly, nodding his head in confirmation.

"Yes, sweet child. You are home now."


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I own none of the characters in this story. More dialogue and less foreshadowing to come in the next chapter, I promise. I'm starting to think I might have to write a prequel to this!

For whatever reason, I cannot get the italics in the first paragraph of Hermione's dream and the first paragraph of her memory of Dumbledore's speech to italicize. I apologize for the shoddy formatting but QuickEdit isn't being at all cooperative. :)

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--- Six Weeks Later ---

It was dusk, and bulging black clouds roiled noisily across the sky, every so often giving off an ominous rumbling. She trailed after the cloaked figure as quietly as possible, doing her best not to stumble over the long hem of the "borrowed" invisibility cloak. The figure strode past Hagrid's hut and into the Forbidden Forest, crossing the invisible boundary of Hogwarts' grounds, and halted. Her breath caught in her throat as she lurched forward, determined to grasp his sleeve before he Apparated away. However, the figure made no move to disappear. Instead, he produced a silver mask from the folds of his black robes and settled it into place upon his face as shrouded figures wearing identical masks appeared from the surrounding forest.

_With a muffled gasp she ducked behind the nearest tree, unsure if any of the Death Eaters possessed the ability to see through the enchanted cloak she wore. Her right hand tightened firmly upon her wand, while her left hand snaked cautiously into an inner pocket of her robe to ensure that the small glass vials were still in place._

_The masked figure of Severus Snape was stooping down now, bowing to a figure who emerged from the rest. Hermione flinched as she caught her first good look at Lord Voldemort, the enemy of all that she held dear. His reptilian features were curled in a pleased sneer as he looked down upon what he thought was his most faithful spy and servant. Snape murmured something, most likely a well-crafted praise to his dark lord. Voldemort nodded dismissively at the kneeling Potions Master, lifting his head and peering through the fading light towards the castle. Hermione froze as his head swerved over to her hiding spot, his flat nostrils flaring outward slightly.  
  
When he spoke, the sibilant hiss caused each and every hair on her body to stand on end. "Severus...it appears you have brought Us a gift."_

With a loud cry, Hermione bolted upright, clutching her tearstained bedclothes tightly against her chest. She panted softly and squeezed her eyes shut, bowing her head as she waited for the familiar stabbing headache to recede. "I'm home now..." she whispered reassuringly to herself, "...it was just a memory...he's gone and it's over now..."

When the searing pain in her temples was reduced to a low throbbing, she stretched out her left hand and groped about on the bedside table in search of the modified Draft of Peace which would enable her to slip into a dreamless sleep for the remainder of the night. Her hand closed around the cut glass bottle and she lifted it shakily to her eyes, frowning in surprise as she saw only a few drops of the mint-green liquid clinging to the crystal walls. With a soft sigh, she placed the bottle back in its place and gingerly levered herself out of the bed, doing her best not to displace the large ginger cat curled up at her side. When he lifted his head and slitted his eyes at her in mild annoyance at being jostled, she reached out and stroked the top of his head lightly. "Sorry, Crookshanks...if it's any consolation, at least I won't be here tossing and turning all night."  
  
She picked up her wand and muttered, "_Lumos_." The tip of the wand began to glow softly, giving her enough light to fumble around and pick up her dressing gown and a pair of slippers. On her way to the door, she tripped over an unfamiliar footstool and gave out a yelp as she hopped the last few steps to the door. "Bloody hell," she muttered, "that's the last straw...tomorrow I'm transfiguring every stick of furniture in here into a cushion."

Pushing the heavy door open carefully, Hermione peered out into the dark corridor lined with sleeping portraits. She shook her head slightly, chuckling under her breath. "You're off your rocker, Hermione. Too many years of trying to avoid Filch at night. You're nineteen, Dumbledore gave you the run of the castle...no more having to be Head Girl."

The door to the guest chamber which she was gradually beginning to think of as her own latched shut at her back as she began to shuffle down the corridor.

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Hermione hummed tunelessly as she stared down at the hellebore blossoms and stems she was mashing to a pulp in a massive stone pestle. With a practiced eye, she ground her mortar down into the mix, attempting to make the resultant green paste the correct consistency. She glanced over at the cauldron simmering to her right, then back down at the mashed hellebore mixture. Stepping back from the lab bench, she lifted her wand and swished it delicately through the air before tapping the rim of the pestle. "_Wingardium leviosa_."  
  
The pestle floated into the air and, at her direction, tipped its contents into the cauldron before returning to its place upon the table. Hermione moved back to the cauldron and lowered a long silver ladle into it, stirring its pale green contents with her right hand as she picked up bottles with her left, idly searching for the moonstone powder.  
  
A sudden crashing of doors caused her to whirl, her fingers scrabbling for her wand. She raised it with a shaking hand and pointed it towards the intruder, but her hand lowered when she saw who the intruder was.

Severus Snape was caught at a loss for words as he surveyed the laboratory. Hermione Granger, clad in a garish plaid cover and neon blue furry slippers that only a Muggle could conceive of, was brewing a potion. At half past three in the morning. In his classroom, no less. His eyes narrowed to observe her more closely as he noted the puffy, red-rimmed state of her tired gaze. Her wand was sitting on the lab bench once more as both hands went to the front of her worn flannel dressing gown, crossing defensively over her chest. He almost snorted aloud as he noticed that the colour scheme of the plaid was maroon and gold. _Amazing, _he thought, _even her nightclothes scream Gryffindor._

Before he could formulate an appropriate remark, his attention was distracted by the slight curl of smoke rising up from the abandoned silver ladle. Hermione groaned softly and whipped about, turning her attention towards the contents of her cauldron, which were giving off a smell reminiscent of burning eggs. She stared in wide-eyed dismay at the rapidly-congealing goop which used to be a promising potion. With a resigned sigh, she lifted her wand and pointed it at the ruined contents of her cauldron. "_Evanesco_."  
  
Even as the botched potion vanished neatly from within the vessel, Hermione was already reaching out to measure a new portion of dragon's blood. Finally finding his voice, Snape cleared his throat and asked quietly, "Might I ask what brings you down here, Miss Granger, at such a late hour?"

Hermione closed her eyes, her fingers curling tightly about the vial in her hand. On the day Dumbledore had fetched her from St. Mungo's – the day her first memory of who she was surfaced, after nearly a year of lying in catatonia – he had tried to explain to her. In her state of confusion, it had taken him nearly a week of gentle coaxing to get her to understand the most basic explanations.

"Miss Granger, shortly after your graduation from Hogwarts, you made the decision to venture off the grounds in pursuit of Professor Snape. Why you chose to place yourself in such danger, I will never understand...but it is my hope that with time, as your memories return, you will be able to enlighten me.

"_You were a captive of Voldemort for nearly two months until his final defeat. We knew you were alive, thanks to Professor Snape's diligence, but Voldemort was clever enough to use the Fidelius Charm. There was simply no way for us to find you until Severus was able to discover who your Secret Keeper was._

"_When Remus found you, we weren't sure you would survive your injuries. I did not want you to be sent away from Hogwarts, but we were not equipped to deal with the full extent of the...damage. Miss Granger, I want to be absolutely certain you know that Hogwarts will be your home for as long as you need it. You will be assigned a guest suite, quite close to the hospital wing, and you have but to tell me of anything you will need and I will supply it._

"_One thing however, Miss Granger...should you chance to encounter Professor Snape, you may notice that his behaviour towards you is a bit...peculiar. Suffice it to say that all of us have our own painful memories from your disappearance, and Severus carries the most powerful scars."_

As the days went by, she had slipped into a peaceful routine. Mornings were spent wandering through the castle, allowing her positive memories of Hogwarts to come pouring in as she re-acquainted herself with the delightful secrets of the castle. She visited the portrait of the Fat Lady quite often, and spent several hours curled up alone in the Gryffindor common room, poring over one of her NEWT-level tomes. Each afternoon there was a meeting with either Dumbledore or Minerva McGonagall. They would discuss her resurfaced memories and supply her with the potion which allowed her to sleep undisturbed. Eventually, the conversation would turn to things which Hermione could NOT remember. Try as she might, she could not get either of them to give her information on the period from her disappearance shortly after graduation to her recovery at the final battle two months later. She did learn what had become of several of her former classmates in the aftermath. Harry was a Seeker for the Chudley Cannons, and Ron was engaged in Auror training at the Ministry of Magic. To Hermione's surprise and Dumbledore's delight, Neville Longbottom was also studying to become an Auror. Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown had eloped the day after Voldemort's defeat and were now expecting a child. Hermione delighted in hearing of her friends' happiness, but she also noted the names that were missing from the litany...Justin Finch-Fletchley, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Dean Thomas...several of her fellow non-pureblood witches and wizards.

Dinner was still a rather unnerving event for her, sitting up at the high table with the rest of the staff. The absence of pupils in the castle was a new experience for her – even over the holidays, there had been enough students to fill up at least half of one of the hall's four long tables. During the summer months, with less than a dozen faculty members at the high table, the great hall looked even more barren. Dumbledore was always there, as was Professor McGonagall. Professor Flitwick often came down, his eyes twinkling fondly at Hermione as he engaged her in conversation. There was always one faculty member who, though she knew him to be residing in the castle, never came down to join them.

The man in question was staring at her intently, waiting for an answer.


End file.
